


Goes With The Office

by Omorka



Category: Eureka
Genre: Employee/Boss Relationship, F/M, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omorka/pseuds/Omorka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tess and Carter are getting along swimmingly, and the Director of Global Dynamics is getting a little lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goes With The Office

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during Season 3.5, and has possible spoilers up until then.

It's no secret, up at Global, that the executive assistant has traditionally assumed duties that one wouldn't expect from a combination of top-knotch secretary, middle manager, and secondary researcher. It's never been a secret, and the few times someone pretended it was, it was very poorly kept. As far as Fargo knew, every general director of Global Dynamics had called on the executive assistant to perform those duties, and he'd been glad to perform them, if gladder with certain directors (*coughDrStarkcough*) than others (*coughDrKing*).

So far, Dr. Blake had only asked for them once, and only because he offered. Only because they were both grieving. Only because they were both grieving for the same man.

Dr. Fontana had just left Dr. Blake's office, and Dr. Blake was leaning heavily on the edge of Fargo's desk, one hand on her rounded belly and a strange look on her usually-regal features. He looked up at her, a question written behind his glasses.

She looked back, slowly. "Tess has a date with Carter." Her eyes darted to Fargo's hands on the keyboard. "Maybe you should warn S.A.R.A.H."

"She's a big girl. She can handle it." Fargo wondered briefly why all his A.I.s had jealousy issues.

Allison blinked, and mouthed something without voicing it. Fargo wondered if it were _me, too_ \- that was what it looked like, but that didn't make sense, did it?

She sighed, heavily. "In my office, Fargo." She turned and walked away, low pumps clicking on the granite floor. He shoved the keyboard away and rose, nearly spilling his coffee - it was cold, anyway.

One perfectly manicured finger spun the dial that opaqued the window on the big office. "Um, Fargo, you offered, once -"

"I did." Memories of every time he'd been bent over the desk before this one spun in his forebrain.

"I don't want this to be a boss-and-employee thing." She hesitantly hitched at her dress, a tasteful grey knit that expanded as she did. "We're friends, right?"

"Of course." Fargo didn't have many friends, but he was willing to call Dr. Blake one. But she was his boss. That was important to him, too; he was really only attracted to people who were stronger than he was, somehow. Smarter, physically buff, socially powerful - it didn't matter. But they had to overpower him to turn him on.

By definition, his boss qualified.

She peeled down her pantyhose and sat on the edge of the desk. "I just - I'm sorry, Fargo, I need -"

"You need someone, and I'm here." Did he sound too eager? He probably did.

She shook her head. "I need someone I know. Someone I trust." She sighed. "It's not fair to you."

"Nothing in my life has ever been particularly fair." He knelt on the carpet and set her knees on his shoulders, carefully. "I'm not Dr. Stark for you, and I can't be Sheriff Carter, but I'll do anything I can." _My duty,_ he thought as he nudged her back and brushed his fingers over her sensitive spots. His tongue followed, although he had to turn his neck at an odd angle until she eased farther back, almost lying down on the desk.

His arms curled around her thighs, nudging the dress farther up and stroking her hips. Her breath caught; her fingers pressed against the glass, grabbing at the edges. He traced small circles with his tongue, nudged with the tip of his chin, pressed his lips to her labia and sucked carefully. She let out a small, tight moan and gripped the glass harder.

He retrieved one hand and slid a finger into her, stroked gently, curled it firmly. Her hips arched; there, that was the spot. His tongue curled at double speed as he slid in a second finger and repeated the motion, finding a smooth, slow rhythm that matched the roll of her hips.

She shouted, one sharp wordless syllable, and clutched at his ears as she trembled. He smiled against her. _My duty, and my pleasure._


End file.
